


Provocative

by feminismintensifies



Category: Topp Dogg (Band)
Genre: M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-21
Updated: 2015-06-21
Packaged: 2018-04-05 09:55:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4175493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feminismintensifies/pseuds/feminismintensifies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hansol thinks that honestly, he's completely screwed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Provocative

**Author's Note:**

> i am never going to write a sequel stop asking

Hansol thinks that honestly, he's completely screwed. What was all a joke and fun and games in the beginning has left his mind swimming with thoughts that probably would have never sprung to his mind in the first place if it weren't for their stupid little game.

It had started when Byungjoo jokingly sent a provocative text wrought with typos; Hansol has been initially confused, because usually Byungjoo was a flawless speller in his texts, but also he doesn't know why he would send something so outlandish to begin with. He had replied with something equally misspelled and tacked on an 'xoxo' for good measure. Somehow, it had become a running joke that all their conversations always dissolve in these insincere sext errors.

Hansol lie in bed, fresh out of the shower with the bare minimum of clothes on. He's been staring at his phone for a whole of five minutes, willing Byungjoo to text him, take his mind off of his current train of thought. As it stands, looking at the device only throws him further into the hole he's dug himself.

Groaning, he snaps his eyes to the ceiling and tries to form patterns in the brush strokes barely visibly and curving in a pattern, trying to let his mind be consumed with the blankness. In the end, he pictures the curve of Byungjoo's nose, mouth, and chin. Hansol closes his eyes and presses his palm into his forehead,but physical forces proves as helpful to stopping his wandering mind as mentally willing it down does.

Byungjoo's voice is running through his head, crackling as if on the phone, and Hansol feels his pulse pick up. _I want to fuck you,_ it says, a whisper, _I want you desperate and writhing and so hard you cry with the need for me to touch you._ Hansol whimpers out loud and he can't believe he's thinking about having phone sex with his best friend, can't believe he's letting a hand caress his abdomen while the other clutches the pillow beneath his head. He's already hard and he feels a little pathetic when his cock jumps at the thought of Byungjoo's long fingers tracing the ridges of muscle on his skin instead.

He doesn't know why some impulse makes his grab his phone from his nightstand, snapping a blurry shot of his erection outlined in his briefs and his fingers playing with the elastic waistband. It's not like he even has anyone to send it to, and he'll be damned before he ever sends it to Byungjoo. He tosses his phone to the side and pushes the hem of his briefs down, his hard cock springing free and resting hot and heavy on his stomach.

In a world where Hansol wasn't embarrassed by his current predicament, he's get up to retrieve his lube from his dresser and fuck himself with his fingers; right now, though, his mind was churning half with shame for his action and half with heady, suffocating want to get off. His hands tremble as he ghosts fingers down the underside of his cock and inhales sharply at his own touch. It's feathery and ticklish and much too gentle to be good for his health, so he wraps short fingers around the thick base to jerk himself in earnest, soothing the dry drag of skin on skin with the precome leaking from the head.

Normally, Hansol would drag this out, make it last until he’s gasping too much to get a proper breath in, but chagrin makes his hand move rapidly, twisting on occasion and thumbing the tip. His moans are high pitched and needy, fingers of his free hand digging into his cheek as he holds it over his mouth to muffle the sounds.

When he comes, there’s more than just pleasure curling in his groin and tingling in his limbs. Guilt accompanies it, confusion muddles it, but the aftereffects of orgasm cloud his mind too much for him to seriously consider what he’d just done. That he’d just jerked himself to orgasm on the thought of his best friend pressing his face into his sheets and fucking his hard and fast from behind. He wipes the semen that’s spilled on his hand onto the mussed covers of his bed and reaches for the phone, tossed to the side but not forgotten, and sends a text message to Byungjoo before he can reconsider.

_i want u to bend me over and fuck me raw._


End file.
